


How to Fall in Love With a Rock

by Random_Kid



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Forced Marriage, M/M, Non-Consensual Touching, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sexual Harassment, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Slow To Update
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-07-08 07:41:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15925916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Random_Kid/pseuds/Random_Kid
Summary: Lance McClain is a prince forced into a marriage to local ass-prince, Lotor. Rumors of a haunted statue in his garden peaks Lances interest, but when he finds out that the statue is actually alive, not to mention his only way out of this marriage, what is he supposed to do? Join him in his new quest to escape the marriage while simultaneously trying to pursue something of a relationship with a gargoyle named Keith. But how did he end up a gargoyle? And more importantly, does he like Lance back?-I suck at descriptions, and the tags might be a little scary but all the bad stuff has to do with Lotor, and nothing is super explicit. Please give it a chance and leave a comment on ho it can improve! Thanks!This AU was made up by 214b on tumblr!





	1. Hi, my name is Chelsea, what’s YOUR favorite dinner food?

Lance has officially decided that arranged marriages were the worst. They were worse than any demon he’d seen, they were worse than any magic that’d burned him before, they were even worse than that time he “accidentally” walked in on his parents gettin’ down and dirty when he was twelve. But that was a close, close second. Lance had fought tooth and nail against what was happening, even going as far as to bring it up during the very meeting that lead him to this position in the first place. That ‘place’ being packing his bags in his soon to be empty room, ready to throw them all in some fancy carriage and shipped off to some stupid estate in the country. 

He was forced to marry the prince of a neighboring kingdom, Lotor McDickhead or whatever, and Lance was… less than thrilled. Enough to throw wine on his nicest suit in order to avoid having dinner with the man with the excuse of “not looking his best”. Lance loved that suit like it was one of his nieces, but he hated Lotor more than he liked his suit. He sat on his bed, sighing to himself, and flopped back onto the soft sheets, closing his eyes in some desperate attempt to make it all a bad dream. His mission was harshly interrupted with a knock on his door.

Lance groaned. “Come in.”

The door creaks open sheepishly, revealing the soft face of his best friend, Hunk. Lance looks up at his friend, but loses the energy to greet him and lets out another long sigh.

“Hey man. Uh, just wanted to talk to you again before you… y’know, move away and I might never see you again and stuff…… okay, that probably didn’t help, but I’m trying to be as positive as I can.” Hunk ushers out, looking anywhere but at Lance.

Lance lets out a soft sad chuckle to himself and throws an arm over his eyes. 

“Yeah. I’ll miss you too, buddy.”

Hunks lip quivers and he dives over to the bed, glomping Lance and promptly knocking the air from his chest. He cries almost comically hard, managing to throw out a few words amongst all the sobbing.

“I’m gonna miss you, man! I don’t want you to leave! Who am I gonna smack with my spatula when they try to steal snacks!? Who, Lance!? WHO!?” He says, returning to his sobbing.

“Aw, don’t worry, buddy! I- I’m sure that I’ll visit! Shay’s here, and my nieces, and my twin, y’know, my f-family! Th-They can st-steal snacks!” Lance replies, his words degrading into a sort of laugh-cry.

Hunk wipes his eyes, looking up to Lance from on top of him. “I’m gonna miss you…”  
“I’m gonna miss you too, buddy.” Lance replies, wiping his own eyes.

Hunk rolls off from Lance, flopping down beside him. 

There’s a few seconds of sound silence before Hunk shoots up from his lying position, turning to Lance. “I totally forgot to mention - The carriage is here, and everyone’s waiting for you. They’re probably wondering where both of us are, to be honest.”

Lance lets out another long, dramatic sigh and urges himself into an (albeit, very slouchy) sitting position.”Welp…” he finally speaks. “Better not keep ‘em waiting.” 

Lance and Hunk grab his many bags, hauling them down the grand stairway to the opening of the castle, silent the whole way. There, in front of the castle doors, stands Lances family and soon-to-be-husband, all looking up unexpectedly at the prince, as if expecting some grand speech and farewell. Lance stays silent, closing his eyes as he passes by his parents and siblings, not wanting to look them in the eyes. He throws his bags haphazardly into the storage unit of the carriage, looking to his feet in sorrow.

He stands there for a minute, wallowing in his own sorrow, before hr feels two little hands grasp at his pants leg. He looks down to see one of his nieces, staring at him with her big round eyes. “Uncle Lance, why are you leaving?” She asks. Despite it being such an innocent question, it almost brings Lance to tears.

“Uncle Lance has to go be happy somewhere else now. Mommy and Daddy will take good care of you, so don’t worry about me, okay? I’ll come back,” Lance says, softly putting a hand on her head. He thinks for a moment, before adding one last comment, bending down to whisper it into her ear. “Make sure to steal Hunks snacks for me, okay?”

She giggles and nods her head, wrapping her little arms around Lances neck and giving him a big, wet kiss on the forehead. “Buh-bye, Uncle Lance!”

“Buh-bye.” he softly whispers back, afraid that he’ll really start crying if he raises his voice any further.

Lance takes here little arms off from around his neck, turning her around and giving her a little push back to his parents. He looks up to them, locking his eyes with theirs, and stand back from his crouching position and stepping forward to give them a final farewell. He didn’t feel like talking, but he was up for a bitter-sweet hug. His arms were loose around their shoulders as he rested his chin on their shoulders, wondering why in the world they would agree to something like this. His family very much believed in marrying for love, not money or power.

Then again, even Lance knew that this was a LOT of power to trade his life for. But Lance refused to believe that that was the reason they did this. They weren’t power hungry, and they were plenty rich being the kings and queens of a budding, strong kingdom like theirs; but despite this, they still agreed to the marriage and Lance was just a casualty of the deal. This farewell felt more like he was being sent off to prison than getting married in a few weeks.

He let go of his parents, looking them in the eyes one last time before he climbed in the carriage with his soon-to-be husband. Lance could practically taste the perfume and product radiating off this man, driving Lance to get a sort of carriage sickness, despite the fact that the carriage hadn’t even started moving yet. Right on cue, as if the driver could hear his thoughts, the ride started to move forward on the cobblestone road that passed in-front of his old home. He looked out the window as he watched the old castle get smaller and smaller the further they rode away. As soon as the castle disappeared from his sight, he let out a huff and turned back to stare at his hands resting in his lap. 

“You’re going to love the estate, the garden is divine.” His gross new fiance spoke, making a dramatic gesture with his hands.

Lance didn’t reply, and rested his head on his hand, placing his elbow on the open window and looking out at everything he’d be missing. The town he grew up in was bustling with activity, throwing a sort of parade for the new couple, throwing coins and flower petals. Lance put on his best smile, waving at all the friendly faces as the carriage rolled past, slowly speeding up the closer they got to the exit of the village. When the carriage was finally out, Lance stopped waving and slouched into the cushions of the carriage seat.

“Oh please, don’t be so dramatic. All you have to say is ‘I do.’, and your job is practically over. Or did you have a lover or something before you left? That’s laughable.” Lotor sneered, rolling his eyes at the distraught boy sitting beside him.

Lance didn’t grace him with a response, only closing his eyes and gripping his knees. 

____________________________________________________________________________

When they finally reached the estate, it was a saving grace from sitting in silence next to such a insufferable, proud, hoity-toity rich asshole. As soon as the carriage slowed to a stop, Lance practically threw himself from the carriage and took a deep breath of the fresh, rose scented air. The estate he’d have to spend the rest of his life in was famous for it's beautiful garden and landscaping, along for the wide array of paths and stone statues. It was mostly known for one statue in particular, a gargoyle that was so expertly carved it looked like it was alive. Apparently it was some trophy given to the estate for catching a war criminal. There was no information on who gave it to them, or where it came from, just that it was a prize of some sort.

 

Rumors had spread that it moved at nightfall, changing positions, but it would always end up in the same position at the end of the week. There were also rumors that it was cursed, or a cursed person that was destined to remain a statue until… something happened. Lance couldn’t remember, but he knows that it was something cheesy. He doesn’t think it was “true love” or something, that would be too cheesy. Probably had something to do with killing the person who cursed it. Them? Would it be them if it was a person even though they were also a statue?

Lance had never seen it, but he did plan on walking around in hopes of finding it. Anything to avoid actually going inside the wretched estate.

Almost as soon as Lance leapt from the carriage, Lotor seemed to appear by his side, placing his hand onto the small of his back. “Oh please darling, don’t run from me so. Were going to be together for a long, long time.” He said, poison dripping from every syllable.  
Lance shuddered, swatting the hand from his back and taking a few steps forward. “No matter how true that may be, do not expect anything from me. I’d rather die than let you make any more advances.” He replies.

Lotor sneers, and turns away from him. “Such tough talk for such a weak man. Are you sure that you’re of legal age to marry? Because those skinny arms say otherwise.”

Lance bristles, and turns to point a finger directly at Lotors nose. “At least I act like I’m eighteen! I’m not the one who needed a soft pillow for his ass on the ride back.” He snaps back. “Fuckin’ baby…”He mumbles, just out of earshot.

“Whatever. Go, get lost in the gardens for all I care. Just don’t come crying to me when you realize no-one’s here to pull a thorn out of your foot for you.” Lotor replies, scoffing and passing Lance to get into the castle.

“Fine! At least I won’t have to look at you if I get lost and die.” Lance yells back, stomping into the first path he can find.

“Who does he think he is!? Touching me like that… like I’m some sort of - trophy! I will not stand for this!” Lance says, talking to himself as he stomps down the path, kicking the rose bushed on the way.

____________________________________________________________________________

Okay, Lance didn’t actually mean to get lost in the gardens like Lotor said he would, but he did, and now he’s panicking. The sun was setting, casting an orange glow among the roses, making a beautiful afternoon that was probably being enjoyed by some, but definitely not by Lance. He got lost and he hadn’t even found the stupid statue he’d been looking for, just the same cracked tiles and blooming roses that he’d been surrounded by since he went in the damn garden! He was hungry and tired, and his feet hurt! Worst day ever, by far.

Lance groaned, trudging forward just as angry as he was when he entered the garden, despite the beautiful scenery. Just a he was about to give up, he spotted a wing made of concrete peaking above the roses. He smiled, speeding up his pace in order to see the statue he’d been looking for (for the past few hours) just a little bit faster. Knowing that, if he died in this stupid garden, it’d be next to a haunted statue, hopefully making Lotor just a little bit uncomfortable. As he reached the small clearing where the statue stood, he felt his eyes widen as he finally saw the statue in all its glory. A winged man (a Galran, apparently) kneeling in place, roaring out at nothing was set upon a large stone column, surrounded by bright red roses.

Lance had never seen a better made statue in his life! The craftsmanship was amazing, far greater then what he’d imagined, so much so that it left Lance in awe. He jaw hung open at the chiseled features of the (admittedly very attractive) statue before him, failing the notice the convenient - and very much needed - bench at the front of it's column. He walked towards the statues, putting his knees onto the column and pushing himself up as he leaned in to take a closer look. He could see every hair follicle on the statues head, every long eyelash, every crease in between his brows, and he could practically feel the deep anguish that was settled into the statues expression.

Lance chuckled to himself. “Me too, buddy. I feel just about the same right now.” He started.

Lance never thought his life would degrade to the point where he would lament all his troubles to a literal rock, but it did, and Lance is gonna take advantage of the venting opportunity while he got the chance.

“I wonder, if you really are a war prisoner cursed by some old witch, what gave you an expression like that.” Lance said.

The statue stayed still and silent, but Lance continued.

“I don’t know what happened to you, but now I’m getting married to Moneybags McDouche, and honestly? I think I would rather marry you. I would rather lay here and fall asleep in order for you to come alive and kill me. So if you came alive right now, that’d be great.” Lance said, resting his head on the column.

His thoughts continued to wander as he spoke to the statue, throwing his arms up wildly as the sun continued to set, deciding this would be his vent station from here on out. Lance begun to fall asleep, feeling his eyelids getting heavy as the emotion rushed out of him, as he looked into the sunset peeking from behind the rose bushes. 

“See?” He whispers, half asleep. “Told you I’d fall asleep out here…”  
____________________________________________________________________________

Keith had no idea what to do in this situation. Sitting there for hours with this man sleeping at his feet was new to Keith, but what was even more new was the fact that the guy started listing off his troubles, one after the other, and fell asleep doing it. What was Keith supposed to do with all this information? Should he wake him up? 

Waking him up would probably be… a bad idea. 

Should he… should he kill him like he’d asked?

No, obviously he wasn’t serious about the “kill me” thing. Hopefully.

What should he do? 

Keith sighed, eventually choosing to do nothing as he sat there, watching the man sleep. Keith couldn’t help but feel bad for him. This guy had to leave everything behind in a marriage he didn’t even agree to. Keith looked at him, soaking in the features of the man's face. The warm tones of his skin and hair, the softness of his skin (yes, he did touch his face - don’t judge) and the length of his eyelashes gave Keith's heart a beating. Keith hadn’t seen anyone in so long, not this deep in the roses, and it was odd to be able to gaze at someone like he was doing. 

Keith had been here for twenty years, the secret of his occurence buried deep in the estates past, cursed to live forever. That is, unless Keith could find the antidote to his curse before someone accidentally broke him in statue form. But why was he thinking about this now? He still had to do something about this predicament. Keith looked down at the man, thinking about how in pain he must be with everything that's happened. He slept so peacefully it would be hard to believe that he’d gone through those things.

Keith leaned over the man, stroking a hand through the man's hair softly, attempting to comfort him, despite the fact that he was fast asleep. He lifted the man’s head into his hands, finally deciding what he’d do. Sleeping with your head resting in someone’s palm had to be more comfortable than laying flat on the column.

____________________________________________________________________________

Lance isn’t sure when he woke up. Lance isn’t sure a lot, but one thing he is sure of, is that he didn't fall asleep with his head being cradled by the hands of the statue, and he definitely remembers that the statue wasn’t looking down at him like that. Lances head shot up from the statues hands, proceeding to bonk his head on the statues head and tumble off the bench. His back collides with solid ground and he loses his breath, slapping his hand against the new bruise on his forehead.

“Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow!” He pitifully whines, rolling around on the ground. Distracted from what-the-fuck-just-happened by the pain, he groans and ends up on his back, staring to the sky before finally remembering that the statue definitely moved while he was asleep, and that it definitely cradled Lances head like a baby. He shoots up from his lying position, scooching away still flat on his ass.

Okay, Lance thinks to himself, he- they- it- whatever he was supposed to say, didn’t kill him, so. That’s good. But it did start cradling his head like a mother cradles a crying child - which isn’t too far off if Lance is being honest with himself - which means that it either heard him or decided to use it's hands as a pillow as some sort of good samaritan act. Whichever it was, it still meant that the statue was alive and could start moving at some point which was. Crazy? Terrifying? How do you even describe a haunted statue that only does nice things? Lance didn’t know, but he was super interested in finding out.

But what interested more was getting out of the garden and getting food. Lances stomach grumbled at the thought as he stood up, looking around to decide which way to go. The good news was he didn’t have to, because upon thinking that, someone came into view and outstretched a hand to help him out of the garden. Bad news is that it was Assfucker McWasteofspace, Prince Lotor. Oh, joy.

Lance scowled and took the hand, getting pulled up by the other man in one strong tug. Lance hated how strong he was. He was the definition of a spoiled rich kid, and he was strong on top of that. Lance hated spoiled rich kids, and he hated when they could one-up him.

“What are you doing this deep in the rose bushes? I didn’t actually mean for you to get lost, you know.” He said, oddly chipper.

“I know! It just... I’d rather sleep on concrete than anywhere near you.” He replied, mumbling the last part without facing him.

“What was that? You do know that were alone here right? I could find you literally anywhere, so don’t expect to be able to get away from me for to long.” Lotor brings up, out of seemingly nowhere.

Lance freezes, finally realizing how absolutely fucked he is from here on out. The only other people who lived at the estate were lotors servants and a few army generals. There was no one here who would help him if he were to try to escape, let alone fantasize about it. Lances only solace was a statue that probably couldn’t even leave himself.

“If I can’t leave, let me walk around by myself. I don’t care if I get lost, just make sure you feed me or my family will come for your head.” He bites back, venom lacing his tongue.

Lotor chuckles. “Of course. Lunch is waiting for you when we finally get back. You slept until noon. Did you stay up late talking to a rock?” 

Lance huffed, just pushing Lotor towards the bushes. “Better company than you. Just get me out of here. And install some signs! I would probably die before I got out of here again.”

____________________________________________________________________________

Needless to say, breakfast was eaten in silence. Lance scarfed it down as quickly as possible, finding his way to his room and locking himself inside. He swept all of his blankets off his bed, piled them up in a wicker basket he’d stole from some random closet, and dropped them from his window into the bushes below. He also had swiped a few apples and a loaf of bread from the kitchen on the way back to his room, and he tied those up in one of his jackets, throwing them into the bushes too. No way was Lance going a night without seeing the statue move. He had questions, man!

Lance waited until sunset before he left. The statue didn’t move until then so there was no point in leaving before then. Besides, he wanted lunch. By the time the sun started setting, Lance was more than ready to leave. He left the estate with a skip in his step, eager to leave the claustrophobic room he’d holed himself up in, ready to see - and maybe even talk to - the statue.

Lance was fuckin’ PUMPED in other words. He was about to pull an all-nighter for this bitch so he better wake up! Lance cherished his beauty sleep above all but this bitch was about to get the most intense question session of his LIFE! Lance even brought snacks!

As Lance hurried out the door, he swiped his stuff from the bush and started trying to retrace his steps from the day before. Lance caught sight of the wing peeking above the rose bushes and he made a break for it, sprinting through the path and bushing himself through one of the walls of roses, silently thanking whoever de-thorned them. As he broke through, he emerged to see the statue up off of the column, stretching with his back to Lance. Lance could barely contain his excitement! In fact, he totally couldn’t!

“HEY!!!” Lance said, head poking from the bushes.

“AH!” The statue yelped, tripping over his own feet trying to turn around and promptly falling flat on his butt.

Lance barked out a laugh, falling forward from the bushes and resting his hands on his knees while he caught his breath and laughed at the same time. The statue turned around to glare at Lance, with an almost adorable pout on his face, if it wasn’t so mixed with a scowl.

“Oh, screw off! How’d you feel if I popped up behind you, huh? And yelled ‘HEY!’ right in your ear!” He snapped crossing his arms.

Lance rolled his eyes. “Don't be such a drama queen! I wasn’t that loud.” 

Keith rolled his eyes right back, pointing a finger to the big fluffy ears on the sides of his head. “You can not be that dense.”

Lance’s laughter stopped short, and started scratching the back of his head. “Ohh yeah… Sorry.”

Now that they’d gone silent, Lance took another look at the statue and realized something: he was still made of stone. Breathing and talking and hearing, but still a rock. He could clearly see the creatures chest rise and fall, and he could see it's long eyelashes flutter over it's cheeks when he blinked-

“So…” Keith started, interrupting his thoughts, “I totally didn’t hear you talk about the arranged marriage thing when I was frozen.”

Lance raised and eyebrow, putting a hand on his hip. “You really suck at lying.”

Keith sighed. “I know.”

And right on back to silence. Oh joy.

Lance didn’t really plan for this, so he decides to jump into the thick of it, headfirst. “So what happened to make you a gargoyle?”

Keith cocked an eyebrow, looking at Lance like he was crazy. “Uhh…. magic? What else?”

Lance smacked a palm to his forehead. “Well, I know that! I meant, like, are you a war criminal or something? Did you get caught fraternizing with the generals?”

Keith laughed, loud and sharp. “God no! They are definitely not my type. And the war criminal thing sounds like something out of a fairy-tail. But yeah, you could say that.”

“Didn’t know rocks had preferences.” Lance said with a playful sneer.

“I wasn’t always a rock, you know! You just said it yourself, I’m a gargoyle.” Keith replied.

“Nope. Your sass has brought you down to the title of ‘rock’. Tread lightly or I’ll call you a pebble!” Lance snapped back, a triumphant grin on his face.

Keith sighed, giving up on the argument. “So? Why are you here?”

Lance shrugged. “Partially to escape the estate, and partially to see if you can actually move around at night. But y’know, now that I’ve proved that theory, I realize I didn’t really plan ahead.”

Keith laughs, bright and loud, and Lance feels a blush dust across his face in embarrassment.

“What!?” He says, crossing his arms with a pout on his face.

Keith chuckles. “It’s just - you had all this planning for getting here and you just - what, thought everything would run smoothly after that? Just figure me out and sit here for a few hours?”

Lances pout deepens, along with the blush on his face. “Well sor-ry, geez! What am I supposed to do when I find out there’s a statue that comes alive at night in my backyard-garden thing?”

Keith shrugs.

“See! Even you don’t know what you’d do, and you’re the statue in question, so ha!”

“Still,” Keith says, “you really sounded like you had a plan coming in here. Sounds like me whenever I tried to write something.”

“Oh, so you’re a writer? Thought you were like a… soldier-spy person or something.” Lance replies, putting a pointed finger under his chin.

Keith gaze drops to his palm as he runs his own thumb across it. “I used to. Before… yeah.”

Lance’s mood drops temporarily before he realizes - hey, this is a pretty good conversation starter! “So… what kinda things do you write?”

Keith looks up at Lance, surprised, before a small smile appears on his face. “I’ve published a few, you could probably read them for yourself. My pen name is Akira, if you’re really interested.”

Lances eyebrow raises. “Why not just tell me? I mean I doubt you get money off of them anymore, since…” Lance sucks in a breath through his teeth, realizing that, once again, he was about to bring up the fact that this guy was hella cursed. “... yeah.”  
“I made it so the profits would go to my brother when I died. And I’m pretty sure they assumed I failed my mission, in other words, died, so… yeah, he needs the profits way more than I do.”

Lance nods along, making an inquisitive noise when Keith finishes. “So you mentioned your pen name, but we haven’t really exchanged our real names.”

“Huh.” Keith replies, “I guess we didn’t.”

Lance nods. “Guess I’ll start - my name is Lance McClain, bachelor and sharp-shooter of the McClain kingdom.”

“Nice to meet you, I think. Name’s Keith, writer and spy for the blade of marmora.” Keith replies, sticking out his hand.

Lances meets his hand in a firm shake, and he smiles.

“I think I’m gonna like you, Keith.”


	2. Road work ahead? Uh, YEAH, I sure HOPE it does!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A fresh chapter two for all ya'll still reading! Thanks for holding on this long, I'm a slow writer ;-; Enjoy! (And please point out any spelling mistakes in the comments!)

Before Lance new it, they had talked the afternoon away. Keith shared his past as a free-lance writer (see what I did there?) and his role in the Blade of Marmora - which Lance thought was the coolest thing ever - and mostly was teasing Lance the entire time. For example:

“You pushed through a bush of roses without knowing whether or not they were thorned? Really? You’re lucky that these are actually carnations.”

And Lance prattled on about his family, and his best friend Hunk and his cooking.

“Did you know that there’s a desert called a ‘Fool’? Because I didn’t! Hunk always said I was a ‘fool’ and I was so mad about it when I was little-”

They talked about where they came from, and where they’d been - Keith used to travel a LOT apparently - and soon enough Lance found himself trying to fight off sleep so he could keep talking to Keith. There was something about their idle conversations that distracted Lance from the rest of the world, and honestly? Lance couldn’t get enough of it. 

“So there I am, surrounded by like twenty seven blade members, looking like I had just crawled out of the dirtiest sewer system ever-” Keith continued his story, a glint of happiness and like in his stone eyes, before Lance cut him off.

“Listen, dude, I would… love to listen to the rest of your story, but I am on the verge of passing out and if I don’t set up camp on that bench, I don’t think I ever will.” Lances spoke groggily.  
“-Oh. Okay. You want some help with that?” Keith responded, wide awake.

“Yes, please.”

Keith stands, holding a hand out to Lance to help him up from his lying position. Lance happily takes his hand and Keith pulls him up in one surprisingly fast swoop, making Lance over balance and have to be caught around the waist be Keith before he falls forward. They both go rigid, stuck in a position that feels oddly intimate, before Keith quickly lets go and let’s Lance fully stand up by himself.

“Sorry.” Keith squeaks out stiffly, before going to pick up the blankets Lance had left on the floor.

“‘S okay.” Lance replies, stretching out his back despite wanting to curl up into a ball on the floor.

“Uh,” Keith starts picking up the blankets and turning around. “I don’t really know how to set this up, so…”

“Oh, what? You’ve never set up a blanket fort before?” Lance replies, grabbing the blankets from Keith, feeling his fingers ghost over the other man’s hand. Keith shakes his head, looking anywhere but where Lance is standing.

“Well that ends today, mister. I will not have any of my friends not build a blanket fort and sleep in it. It's, like, sleepover etiquette 101.” Lance exclaims, dumping all the blankets beside the bench in-front of Keiths pedestal.

Keith lets out a soft breath through his nose, a light smile on his face, before joining Lance beside the bench.

“Let’s get to work.”

____________________________________________________________________________

The fort sucks. By the end of it, Lance’s sleeves ar rolled up and and he’s sweating like he’d just ran an olympic race, but he looks at the mess of blankets with so much pride that Keith can't find it in himself to say anything. He looks so cute with that grin and the glint in his eyes that insulting his new creation would feel like kicking a puppy with steel-toed boots. They crawl inside the tent-like setup, the space inside being far too small to fit in both of them without their feet sticking out of the end, and lie down. Lance looks exhausted, and Keith is still wide awake, lying down beside Lance with their heads facing each-other.

“So…” Keith starts, nervously looking around at anything but Lances face.  
“So…” Lance replies, “how are you even… how are you even awake right now? It’s gotta be, like, one in the morning or something…” He says, yawning.

“I sleep during the day. Mostly.” 

Lance nods, closing his eyes and nestling into the blankets beneath him. “Ah…” He whispers, “I see…”

Keith nods, not wanting to stir him from the twilight zone between being awake and asleep; and sure enough, he starts softly snoring and shifting in the blankets. Keith smiles to himself, caressing Lances cheek with his hand before lifting his body from the ground and stepping out of the tent, disappointed that he has to get up instead of stay lying there beside the other man. He climbs back onto his pedestal, deciding that his next pose will be sleeping - because for the first time in a while, he actually feels like doing it.

____________________________________________________________________________

Monday

Lance wakes up to morning light shining through the bushes around him, groggily blinking the sleep from himself, and getting up to stretch, before noticing that the other presence in the fort was gone. Lance frowns to himself. He knew that Keith had to go back to his pedestal before this morning, but for some reason Lance felt a lot sadder about it than he should right now. He looks up to Keith lying down on his pedestal, deceivingly life-like, and Lance sighs to himself. Lance scoops up all of his blankets and puts them back in his basket, begrudgingly trudging back through the path to the estate. Not that he remembers the way, seeing as he forced his way through the bushes to get to Keith when he came here. 

After getting lost a good three times, Lance finally finds his way back to the estate and comes in through the open front doors. 

“Where have you been?” Lance hears, feeling a shiver run down his spine as dread fills his gut.

“In the estate’s gardens.” Lance replies curtly, not looking Lotor in the eyes. 

“Why?” Lotor replies, almost letting his anger fully slip through.

“That’s none of your business.” Lance snaps back. “Why do you care, anyway? It’s not like you give a crap that I’m here anyway.”

“You’ve been avoiding me to go to the gardens every night. You didn’t even come to breakfast this morning. And you’re right, I don’t care,but unfortunately…” Lotor pauses, walking towards Lance. “I made a deal to keep you safe in order for your family to finally hand you over.” He finishes, grabbing Lance’s shoulder in a tight grip. Lance winces.  
“I want you to tell me where you’re going at all times.” Lotor says, releasing his grip from Lances shoulder. “No exceptions. Are we clear, Lance?”

Lance sighs from behind his teeth. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?” Lotor sneers, turning away from Lance.

“Yes, your majesty.” He replies with all the venom on his tongue that he can muster.

“Good. Now, run along. I have work to do.”

“I’m going to my room.” Lance whispers, holding back the tears threatening to fall.

He quickly speed-walks/stomps from the main hall, finding his way up a set of stairs before yanking his bedroom door open and throwing himself onto the bed. He lies there, crying, wishing that this was some terrible nightmare, and praying to anything he could think of to help him find his way out of this hellhole. Now he couldn’t even go anywhere without that asshole knowing where he is, and the only person who he can talk to that isn’t Lotor sleeps during the day.

But this wasn’t Keith’s fault - he couldn’t help it - but Lance still felt himself angry at him in his mind. The fool had to go and get cursed, and he got to avoid all of this stupid stuff, and he couldn’t even help Lance cope during the day. Everything sucked and Lance hated every second he spent crying there in his room, seemingly unable to keep the tears from flowing down his cheeks.

Lance curled into himself, smushing his face into his pillows, thinking back to his own wonderful kingdom, wishing he was there instead of stuck in this stupid estate with his stupid new fiance and that stupid, pretty, cool statue. Lance felt his eyes slipping closed, exhausted from crying, despite the fast that he’d woken up only an hour ago. His sniffles quieted down until he fell into an unpeaceful slumber, letting his eyes finally rest from the late night and the waterfall of tears.

____________________________________________________________________________

 

By the time Lance woke up, it was lunch time. Oh, joy! Lance gets to spend more time around ugly ass-face McGee! He gets up from his bed, trying to straighten out the wrinkles from his two-day-old dress-suit, and heads into the bathroom. 

Needless to say, he looks like a mess.

His cheeks are flushed and covered in dried over tears, and his hair looks like hell. Lance runs his hand through the shaggy mess, doing his best to comb his hair (as much as he can) with his fingers, making a face in the mirror. His hair is full of dirt and covered in two days worth a grease, which is the dirtiest he’s been in a while, and Lance decides that a shower is a little bit more important than his lunch.

He decides that a fresh set of clothes sounds nice too.

After he takes his shower and changes into another one of his dress-suits (this time without his favorite jacket) and numbly walks out of his room, back down the hall and a set of stairs to find himself back in the main hall. A long table sits in the middle with an open ceiling, dressed with a chandelier. Surprisingly, Lance finds that there no Lotor in sight - which brings Lance to give the biggest sigh of relief he thinks he ever has. Lunch without Lotor was basically a godsend, and he decides right then and there that Lotor can go fuck himself! Lance is gonna go wherever he wants whenever he wants! Lotor’s the one who wanted to marry Lance, and now he’s gotta deal with it.

Lance’s thoughts are interrupted by a door swinging open, and Lance dreads for a short moment that he celebrated too soon - but he’s pretty sure Lotor isn’t that short. And Lance swears he recognizes that crazy mess of auburn hair.

Pidge!

“Woah! Pidge, is that you? What- What are you- I don’t-” Lance starts, but is cut off by a small palm that out right in front of his face.

“Admit it.” Pidge starts, a deep tone in her voice.

Lance cocks his head.

“You missed me.” Pidge finishes, a smirk gracing her features, her eyebrows scrunching up in a sly look.

“Pidge!!!” Lance yelps, scooping the younger girl up in his arms in a tight squeeze.

“Woah! Woah woah woah- okay!” Pidge screeches in surprise, tensing up at the sudden hug, before relaxing into Lance arms. “I missed you too, buddy.”  
Lance releases her from his grip, smiling at her. “What are you doing here? I thought you went off to magic school or whatever-”

“I did! Hunk needed me on a ‘special mission’, i.e., keeping you sane while you’re stuck here.” She cups a hand around her mouth, mocking a whispering pose. “I had my reasons for coming though. Some fancy rock.” She winks.

“How long have you been here?” Lance replies, glossing over her last comment before he realizes what she means. “You mean the gargoyle?”

Pidge nods, “I’ve been here since yesterday, but I couldn’t find you.”

“Yeah,” Lance says, “That's because I was talking to the rock himself.”

Pidge eyes widen. “You talked to it!? Oh my god, you have to show me- does he only wake up at night or is he awake all the time? Does he even sleep? Does he really ever get frozen, or is he just really good at keeping still? Does he-”

Lance cuts her off, putting a hand over her mouth. “Pidge, Pidge, listen, I’m sure you’d rather hear it from him than me. Either way, I’m not sure about any of your questions myself.” He says, taking his hand off of her.

Pidges mouth gapes open in a smile, almost shaking with excitement. “I get to meet him!?”

Lance chuckles, ruffling her head. “Of course! Why would I tell you about him if I wasn’t gonna let you two meet?”

Pidge fist-pumps to herself. “So, when? Like, tonight? Because the sooner the better!”

Lance puts a finger to his chin, turning away from Pidge. “Mmm… I don’t know, maybe.” He mocks, before turning back to her. “Of course! Why would I make you wait?”

Pidge fist pumps again, hopping in triumph. 

Lance chuckles to himself. “By the way, is there a library in this estate? Because if anyone were to find one, it’d be you.” He asks, putting a hand on his hip. 

Pidge scoffs, “Of course there is. You think a big estate like this is just filled with rooms?”

“Well, no.” Lance replies, “Your sass never ceases, does it?”

“Nope.” She smirks. “There’s a library at the end of the hallway on the right. Not even you could get lost trying to find it.”

“Sweet! Alright Pidge, I’ll catch you later.” Lance says, waving to her and walking to the hall. “I’ve got some studying to do.”

Pidge raises an eyebrow, watching as he leaves. “What would you voluntarily study for?”

“Nunya. Meet me tonight in my room, we’ll sneak out from there. That is, if I don’t lock the door due to your sass.”

Pidge chuckles. “I’d figure out a way to get in even if you did.”

____________________________________________________________________________

Once Lance makes his way to the library, he is astonished by the amount of information he can find about gargoyle curses. Because honestly, Lance had never heard of anything like it - this “gargoyle-ification” thing. It really would’ve helped if Lance brought Pidge along to understand all this fancy magical vocabulary, but he was pretty sure Pidge was busy and Lance was pretty sure Pidge would be more interested in how to make it happen than how to make it un-happen. Most of the books he could find focused on how to cast the spell that caused it, but provided no antidote - probably because if you were looking for the spell, you wouldn’t want to turn the person back.

 

Lance did find one book, titled Curses and Their Cures, which was exactly what he was looking for. He found the curse in it’s index and flicked through the pages, finding the few chapters dedicated to it. He starts reading through it.

This curse is especially tricky to cast, and just as tricky to cure. Due to it's volatile nature, and the many different ways one could cast a spell, cures vary drastically based on how the curse was placed. The curse can be cast as a moving, battle ready attack - usually meant to turn the person to stone (See page 45) but failing, ending up by turning them into a more gargoyle-like state. The time frames vary depending on the accuracy of the caster, and if it’s done especially well, lets them only wake up at night. 

Lance flips the page, taking note that whoever made Keith like that was probably a very talented witch.

-

Cures include:  
Drawing blood onto the statue.  
Breaking the seal that can be found on some victims.  
A kiss from someone the person had (or has) feelings for.  
Feeding the person their birthstone.  
Or Killing the caster or one of their bloodline.

Keep in mind, all of these can only be done when the victim is awake and within their moving timeframe.

The page ends, along with the list of cures, and Lance closes the book. It was right, those are drastically different cures. Lance picks up the book, looking around for some sort of front desk so he can check it out. After not spotting one, he figures there isn’t going to be anyone to get mad at him about it. He carries it out, listening to his footsteps bounce off the walls, finding it oddly lonely. 

Lance didn’t like the estate much, but he hated how empty it was.

____________________________________________________________________________

 

After finding his way back to his room, he doesn’t have much to do but wait. He watches the sun as it begins to dip into the horizon, but is startled by the knock at his door. He turns to watch it creak open, revealing Pidge.

“Hey.” She greets, giving Lance a small wave.

“Yo.” Lance replies, getting up from his bed. 

“So, what’s your escape plan?” Pidge asks, brushing past him to look out the window.

“Exactly what you’re looking at. Ever climbed out of a windowsill, Pidge?” Lance teases.

Pidge scoffs. “I’m no stranger to sneaking out.”

____________________________________________________________________________

 

“Lance,” Keith asks, a frantic look in his eyes. “Who is that and why are they here? This is a me and you thing, and even you weren’t supposed to find out!”

“Keith, this is Pidge. My buddy and my only form of escape.” Lance sighs. “And she is very excited to meet you.” 

“H-Hi my names Pidge and oh my god you are actually made of rock.” Pidge squeaks, sticky out a clammy hand.

Keith rolls his eyes. “Yes. I am actually made of rock.” He replies, amused, shaking her hand. 

“How did you get like that? Are you awake when you’re frozen? How long are you awake for? How old are-” She starts asking, before getting cut off by a hand in front of her face..

“Pidge,” Lance says, taking his hand away. “One at a time, dang. But don’t go all night, I need to talk to him too.”

Pidge takes a breath, calming herself down. “Okay. So, uh…” 

Keith cuts her off again. “Okay, so I don’t remember how I got like this, but I do remember who did it, yes I can be awake when I’m frozen, I’m awake from sundown to sunrise, and I was twenty-five when I was frozen, but it’s been around fifteen years since then.”

Pidge gaped at him, and physically closed her mouth with her own hand. “Thanks?”

“Well that was fast. Is that really all you wanted to ask Pidge? I swear what you were asking in the estate was different…” Lance chuckled, looking down at his friend.

“Well, yeah, but I now realize those questions were... Kind of dumb.” She replies meagerly.

Keith barks out a laugh. “Keep ‘em comin’, I’ve got all night.”

“Actually, Keith, there’s something I need to talk to you about.” Lance interrupts, scratching the back of his head.

Pidge groans, “But you said I could-”

“I know, I’m sorry, this is just… really important.” 

Keith looks down, a grim expression on his face. “Actually, Lance… I need to talk to you too. Sorry, Pidge.”

Pidge lets out a huff in frustration. “Yeah, it’s fine. Just remember to get all your important stuff out of the way before you invite me for a round of questioning.”

“Thank you, Pidge. Okay so…” Lance starts, but is cut off by Keith.

“Lance, can I… can I start? It’s just… this is kind of a really pressing thing.” Keith whispers, looking anywhere but into the other man’s eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, uh… yeah, no problem.” Lance replies warily, looking at his own boots.

“So… you know how my position resets, like… every week?” Keith asks, looking at his own hands. Lance nods. “Well, there’s a reason that happens. It's not just, random or something- whatever, that’s not important.” He continues, stuttering off into a sort of babbling.

Lance nods, ushering him to continue.

“Every Friday night, I get these- these flashbacks. Just glimpses of what made me like…” He pauses, gesturing to his body. “... like this.”

Lance brows furrow. “Oh… I’m sorry about that…. Are- Are they bad?”

Keith pauses, taking a breath and scratching the back of his neck. “... kinda.” He replies, ruffling a hand through his hair and letting out a frustrated huff. “But- But that’s not what I meant to- this is about something else, and- okay, so restart.” He scrambled to get out what he meant, anxiety increasing with every breath he took.

If Keith was being honest, the flash backs were… horrible. They were just glimpses, but every once in a while the pain would come back to him- sometimes for hours at a time, and usually getting worse ase the end of the night came closer. The bright lights, the screaming was etched into his skull, and with every second Keith remained silent, his breathing quickened. His skin felt like it was squeezing his skull, and a horrible headache persistently pounded at the back of his head as Keith grabbed at his own hair, trying to will the hot tears from falling down his face.

“Keith?”

He couldn’t tell who said it, or where they were around him, but he supposed it didn’t matter - all he could hear was his friends muffled out yelling, trying to rope him back into reality before he fell too far. 

“Keith!”

Lance.

“Keith! Keith, look at me!”

That’s Lance’s voice. 

“Oh, god- Keith!”

I can’t see him- where is he? Did I close my eyes? Why is my vision so blurry?

“KEITH!” Lance yells, clear and sharp as he slaps his hands on either side of Keith’s face. 

Keith’s eyes open, wide and wet as he stares into the other man’s face.

“Hey buddy, hey- It’s me, Lance. You’re okay, were just sitting in the garden!”

When did I fall to the floor?

“Keith, Keith- come back to me buddy. We're here, we’re all here.” Lance says softly, wiping the tears from Keith’s face.

Keith stares back at him in shock, before he starts crying again. Lance looks at him, panicked, before scooping him into his arms and letting Keith bury his head into Lance’s shoulder. Keith feels a small hand on his back, before the full weight of Pidge’s body wraps around him too.

“Keith? What’s wrong buddy? Can you talk to me?” Lance says, running his hand through the hair on the back of Keiths head.

Keith siffs, burying his head deeper into Lances shoulder. “...y- yeah.” He replies weakly, tightening his hands into fists on the back of Lance’s jacket. 

“Okay, okay good. That’s progress!” Lance says, tightening his grip around Keith’s torso before looking up at Pidge with thanks.

Keith cries into Lances suit jacket, breathing in the flower scented soaps wafting off of the other man. He cries harder, realizing that Lance was the only person to ever successfully bring him back from one of his panic attacks. Not even Shiro had managed to do it, and he had known Keith for years, and Lance had known him for, what, a few hours at most? Sobs wracked his body as he continuing to breath in the soft smells of Lances body, noticing the splash of citrus and salt water hidden under the roses.

God, he knew he was falling, but not this hard.

“Keithy? Keithy buddy? You alright now?” Lance asks timidly, loosening his grip around Keith’s torso.

Keith nods, letting go of Lance’s jacket and wiping his eyes with his arm. “Yeah… Yeah, I’m, I’m alright now.”

“Ehh, I wouldn’t say that. Let’s keep it light for now.” Pidge speaks up, patting Keith’s back.

“I’d love to, but… I really do need to talk to you.” Keith replies, looking back at Lance. “Thanks for the concern, Pidge.” He says, giving her a glance.

“No prob, buddy.” She replies.

“Okay, so…” Lance starts, straightening the cuffs on his jacket. “Important thing.”

“Yeah. The reason I had to tell you about the flashbacks…” Keith starts, looking down to his hands, running his thumb along his palm.

“...is because everytime I have one, I…” 

Lance looks at him expectantly, curiosity dusting his features.

“Lance… I’m going to forget you.”

Lances jaw drops slightly, his lips parting in shock.

“This whole week, will just be… gone.”


	3. Update

So, fun news, I have almost no time for anything with school and a new job ’:D I’m sorry! I do want to continue the story, its just going to take forever... this story is gonna be a super slow upload and Im sorry about that, but I dont really get many chances to write and my creativity levels are less than nothing right now. Thanks for reading the first two chapters!

**Author's Note:**

> My god you're actually reading my garbage. Thank you!


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